


It Had to be You

by AustinB



Series: Stucky Wonderland [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, First Kiss, First Meetings, Lounge Singer Bucky, M/M, Meet-Cute, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 20:58:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5390084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AustinB/pseuds/AustinB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Heya sailor."</p><p>By the grace of god Steve comes up with an immediate reply. "Marine, actually."</p><p>James huffs. Steve's not quite sure what to make of that, but then he leans his elbow on the bar next to Steve, so close that Steve can smell his cologne and see the flecks of blue in his grey eyes.</p><p>"Buy me a drink?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Had to be You

"Swanky," Riley says, nodding as they enter. Sam rolls his eyes.

"So eloquent, my dear." Riley shrugs.

It's like stepping back in time, and Steve can only stare in wonder. The dark mahogany bar is carved with intricate flourishes, set in front of a large mirror gilded in gold. The bartender is a handsome blonde man with slicked back hair wearing a white shirt and black vest. The carpet is dark maroon, the tablecloths a rich gold. Crystal chandeliers throw a hazy glow over the patrons, who are all dressed to the nines, or else they'd never have gotten in.

Steve is dressed in a black suit and tie, like Sam, and though Riley would only consent to a suit jacket and slacks, he can pull it off. They're shown to a round table in the back. It's a pretty small place, and there isn't a bad seat in the house for viewing the hardwood stage at the front of the room. Framed by plush red curtains tied back with thick golden ropes, there's a four piece brass band playing a smooth Count Basie tune. 

A blonde waitress dressed in a smartly fitted black suit and tie takes their drink orders.

"Is it everything you hoped for?" Sam asks him.

"It's amazing. Thank you guys for coming with me." Steve's been trying to get here since he heard about the place months ago, but the three of them never had a weekend off at the same time. It wasn't like Steve didn't have any other friends; everybody at work, in his apartment building and at the gym seemed to like him, he just wasn't all that comfortable with people. He knew Sam and Riley from the service, and that was a kind of bond you couldn't find many other places.

The waitress returns with their drinks on a silver tray. The bourbon is smooth and the conversation is easy. The band changes songs so seamlessly Steve doesn't realize it until he hears the voice. Like velvet and silk and some other fabric that's even softer but Steve doesn't know the name of it. He looks up to the stage, where the full band is set up in the corner and a man in a black suit and bow tie stands behind an old-style silver microphone, singing a Frank Sinatra tune.

"Whoa," Riley says. Sam scoffs.

"Excuse me, your husband is sitting right here." 

The singer's brunette hair is short on the sides and longer on the top, coiffed in a pompadour, and his grey eyes are like something out of a love song. The lights are bright and he may not even be able to see the faces in the crowd, but you'd never know it. He scans the room as he sings, swaying, sending a wink or a grin to the audience. Steve thinks he may glance back at their table once or twice, but his gaze doesn't linger. Steve has checked out of his body and only hears snippets of the conversation at the table, until he gets pulled back.

"...like he's in a coma or something."

"Huh?"

"Welcome back to Earth, buddy," Riley says.

"Betcha like this place a lot more now, huh?"

"Shut up," is all he can think to say.

He pays a little more attention to his friends after that, but only a little. The singer is just so mesmerizing, his eyes keep getting drawn back up. After three or four songs, he bows to polite applause and gracefully steps off the stage and into the crowd, and heads for the bar. Half the eyes in the room follow him. The band keeps playing, a mellow "Take the A Train" and a man who'd been sitting alone at a table up front goes to the other end of the bar and leans in to the bartender. Buying the singer a drink, Steve's sure of it.

"Go buy him a drink," Sam says, elbowing him. Steve shakes his head.

"Nah. I'm sure he gets that all the time."

"Yeah, but not from you."

Steve doesn't want this to be another Get-Steve-Some-Adult-Company night; there are enough of those and they're horrible, so he changes the subject. 

But after the singer accepts the drink from the guy at the bar and spends a few moments chatting (flirting) with him, he moves to another table, greeting and laughing with the patrons. Steve swallows hard as he moves around the room, getting closer and closer to their table. His hands twist in the cloth napkin in his lap.

Steve is facing him, so Sam and Riley don't see when he approaches, but the singer turns away from his conversation with two women who've been leaning in close and brushing their hands on his arms, and looks straight at Steve.

He has a tumbler of watered-down amber liquid in his glass and a cocky grin on his plump, red, perfect lips.

"What's with the sausage-fest, gentlemen?"

Sam looks up over his shoulder, cool as a cucumber. Steve experiences a flash of jealousy, before the mortification of Sam's reply: "It's the homo table."

The singer grins right at Steve, whose lungs are having a little trouble remembering what they're for.

"Looks like I'm in the right place then." He sits in the empty chair at their table. Steve doesn't really believe it; he just watched him flirt with all the women in the place (and a couple guys), it's probably part of the job description.

"So what brings you boys in?"

Sam jerks his thumb at Steve. "We're pretty sure this one was actually born in the '20s."

The singer gives him a slow once over, across the breadth of his shoulders and chest. "You look pretty good for a 90 year old."

Steve huffs a laugh, fidgets with his tie.

"James," he says, sticking his hand out to him. 

"Steve." He shakes his hand; warm and strong.

"Pleasure to meet you." It's not overt, but something about the way his lips curl around the word _pleasure_ makes a shiver run through him. "Have a nice night, boys," he says, and leaves. It doesn't escape Steve's notice that he didn't shake Sam or Riley's hands.

"Duuuude."

"Riley," Steve warns. He's smiling, but he doesn't feel like it. It's James' job to make his patrons feel welcome; there's no way a man who looks like sex in a suit would want him, and he doesn't appreciate his friends trying to tell him differently. False hope is no good to anybody. 

"He's so far outta my league we're not even playing the same game." They give up after a while, teasing him for being a stubborn pig-headed mule. 

Stage-hands dressed in tuxes have added another microphone to the stage, and when James has completed his turn about the room, he jumps back up onto it. A woman comes on stage for a duet and Riley whistles lowly. Sam can't even hassle him for it because he's transfixed too. She's the most beautiful woman Steve's ever seen; red hair, red strapless dress that hugs her curves just right. Her voice is low and rich and reverberates through the room.

At the instrumental bridge of "The Very Thought of You," she and James dance in a tight circle between the microphones and at the end of the song, she blows James a simpering kiss and he waggles his fingers at her. A stage-hand removes her microphone and moves James' back into the center of the stage. James raises an eyebrow at him in thanks and the guy honest-to-god bows to him as he backs off the stage. It's all part of the show and Steve can't help but be drawn into it; it's like he's a goddamn prince from a fairy tale.

During the second set, it feels like James looks back toward their table more and more, grinning wickedly. At the end of a song, he turns and whispers to the band, and they strike up "I've Got a Crush on You." James doesn't take his eyes off Steve for the entire first half of the song. When he finally glances away to pay attention to the rest of the room, Steve turns back to his table with a harsh exhale, like he's just been punched in the lungs.

Sam slaps his arm. "Seriously, man, how much clearer does he need to be?"

Steve makes an aborted denial, but James is looking over again and words escape him. Riley shakes his head and Sam rolls his eyes and Steve tries not to watch James and fails miserably.

When it approaches midnight, Sam says, "We're gonna take off. I trust you'll be able to find your own way home. Not alone, hopefully."

Steve rolls his eyes but hugs them goodnight and moves to the bar. He watches as James' eyes flick over to where they'd been sitting, and as he sings, something like disappointment flashes over his face before he smooths it away. He flirts with the audience and when his eyes catch on Steve at the bar, he grins. Steve can't help but smile back. 

When James bows at the end of the set and steps down off the stage, he locks eyes with Steve and heads straight for him.

"Heya sailor."

By the grace of god Steve comes up with an immediate reply. "Marine, actually."

James huffs. Steve's not quite sure what to make of that, but then he leans his elbow on the bar next to Steve, so close that Steve can smell his cologne and see the flecks of blue in his grey eyes.

"Buy me a drink?" 

"Uh, yeah." Steve looks up and the bartender is _right there_ , despite there being six other people sitting there waiting to be served. 

"Scotch on the rocks," James says. "A real one this time, Barton, if you please."

"Anything for you, Bucky boy. And for the soldier?"

"Same." Steve chokes out. He doesn't like scotch, but he's going to slam it when it gets here. Maybe it'll make this easier.

Before Steve can make good on that, James (Bucky?) takes his glass and tips his head. "I gotta go mingle. You stickin' around?"

Steve nods. "Um, yeah," because there's something about the way he looks at him...he thinks maybe...

Bucky grins. "Good." And thank god he turns away after that because the blush that overtakes Steve is fit to set him aflame.

Steve chats with the bartender when he's not busy and watches the band play. The red-headed woman is mingling about the room, too, until she gets back up on the stage to sing. Steve is transfixed watching her for a while and when he glances around the room for Bucky, realizes he's gone.

Disappointment hits him hard, and he hates himself for believing, just for a minute that—dammit Rogers; should've known better. He pays for his drink.

"Bucky'll be right back," Clint says. "He'll sure be disappointed if he misses you." Steve smiles at him tightly. Of course he wants him to stay and buy more drinks.

"Gotta get home. Bathrooms are?"

Clint points down the back hall and Steve heads that way. The music is muffled down the hallway and as he approaches the men's room, he hears James' unmistakable voice.

"Ain't gonna happen, buddy, now back off."

Steve surges through the door just as the dark-haired man who bought Bucky a drink is pushing him against the wall, holding onto his shoulders. Bucky's face is twisted in anger and his fists are clenched, but before he can swing, Steve spins the guy around and lands a right hook against his cheek. He goes down in a heap, groaning. Steve hisses and shakes his hand.

"Y'alright?" he asks Bucky, who's staring at him wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

"Yeah," he says brightly, sounding surprised. He looks back down at the guy on the floor, holding his face and groaning. "Fuck I am so fired."

"It wasn't—he was—it wasn't your fault!"

Bucky shakes his head. "Don't matter." 

"You little shit," the guy on the floor mutters as he staggers to his feet. Bucky turns and belts him in the nose. He goes down again, slumping against the stall doors. 

"Fuck this place. You wanna get outta here?" Bucky's looking a little wild-eyed, his hair fallen out of place and Steve has never wanted anything more.

"Yeah, but first." Steve, in a move that will surprise him for the rest of his life, hooks a hand around the back of Bucky's neck and pulls him in for a kiss. It's wet and brief and when he pulls back, Bucky sways toward him a little, dazed eyes fluttering open.

It's the single proudest moment of Steve's life; until later that night when Bucky's begging for him; until a little after that when he makes Bucky gasp his name. Until...

* * *

Natasha sings at their wedding a year later, "for a nominal fee because I like you." Sam and Riley are still so awestruck by her that they forget, for just one night, to give Steve shit for denying what was so obvious to them, even then.

**Author's Note:**

> "The Very Thought of you"  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vrGwII081Ck  
> "Witchcraft"  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oFmNgiEgPoQ  
> I've Got a Crush On You  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RtH02InlKP4  
> It Had to be You  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ipJ2P8duaY


End file.
